


Missed Connections

by thefilthiestpiglet



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, HYDRA Trash Party, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Recovery, Sam is a blessing, Zola obsession, steve is bad at people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:12:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilthiestpiglet/pseuds/thefilthiestpiglet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what Steve knows: Bucky is dead, aliens exist, SHIELD is HYDRA, and he loves Sam.<br/>What he doesn't know is why the Winter Soldier just showed up at his doorstep and is seeking refuge.  While Steve would die for his friends and ideals, he's not quite sure what to do with a brainwashed ex-assassin who keeps <i>looking</i> at him like he knew him or something.   Steve's pretty sure the Winter Soldier doesn't look like anyone he knows.</p><p>Or: the one where Steve doesn't recognize Bucky but Bucky manages to recover anyways.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/1504.html?thread=1461984#cmt1461984">this prompt</a> on the hydratrashmeme, but going in a sufficiently different direction that I'm not sure if it's a fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Soldier

Of all the people Steve expected to find on Sam's doorstep a month after the Project Insight Incident, he did not expect the Winter Soldier: Dressed in a dark hoodie, baseball cap tugged low, hiding his hawkish nose and sunken cheekbones -- it made the casual observer glide over his face without really registering. At first Steve didn't recognize him -- the only two times they'd really been face to face had involved a lot of blood and punching. But then he'd looked up and Steve caught those piercing gray eyes.

"Um… hi.” Steve self-consciously wiped his hands on the pants -- he was helping Sam cook dinner. Steve ran a quick threat assessment – the Winter Soldier carried a nondescript backpack, and several lumps on his body were probably weapons of different sorts. But the fact that the man had opened with a “Hello Captain Rogers” and not by throwing Steve into a nearby wall was a pretty good sign. The length of his beard and and general lack of tactical gear and heavy weaponry seem to indicate that he hadn’t reported back to HYDRA since the helicarriers went down. But still, their last exchange didn’t exactly merit a house call. What do you say to someone whose arm you broke in 3 places and who’d shot you 4 times? "Um… I guess I should thank you for pulling me out of the Potomac. That was you, wasn’t it?“

The Soldier nodded in affirmation. 

That was definitely a surreal moment for Steve -- as he was tumbling down toward the water amidst the wreckage of the Triskellion, he'd thought it was his chance to join Bucky. When Bucky fell Steve'd screamed but this time ... well, he didn’t have much to lose. So it'd really made no sense when the man who’d been trying to kill him jumped in and pulled him out. He had the Winter Soldier to thank for saving his life, but at the time, Steve wasn’t even sure if he wanted it. 

And now the man with the gray eyes and the unremarkable face and the utterly inscrutable intentions was standing in Sam’s doorway, asking in a tentative voice, "Permission to enter, Captain?”

A part of Steve wanted to laugh – it was just like the vampire stories that Mrs. Bobiensky liked to tell when he was a kid – vampires and ghouls standing in the doorway, asking for permission to cross the threshold. If Steve said no, would the Winter Soldier disappear or burn up in the sunlight?

And Steve *wanted* to say no – he was trying to keep a low profile between all the media and government upheaval from the SHIELD/HYDRA filedump. HYDRA agents were surfacing in every agency, while Fury and Natasha were nowhere to be found. Inviting the Winter Soldier in just seemed like bad news. Plus he’d *just* moved in with Sam two weeks ago, and Sam shouldn’t have to deal with an unknown assassin in his house… 

“Hey Steve, what are your feelings about couscous?” Sam chose at that moment to turn into the foyer, and Steve could feel the momentary tension as Sam processed what was happening. But by the time Sam made it to the doorway, he was all calm and smiles. "Hey there. Winter Soldier, right?“ Sam leaned past Steve to open the screen door. "No use standing on the steps, you’re letting all the air conditioning out.” He nudged Steve to step aside. "Why don’t you come in? We’ll be starting dinner soon – and I think I made too much couscous.“

The Winter Soldier looked back at Steve for confirmation, and Steve could only shrug. "Sam’s house, Sam’s call.” 

Sam led the Winter Soldier into his living room, deliberately ignoring all of Steve's looks and not-so-subtle hints as he settled the soldier in front of the TV with a nature documentary. Only then did he let Steve pull him into the kitchen for a whispered debriefing.

"Sam, he tried to kill me. And you. We don’t know if he’s gone back to HYDRA. Who knows what he’s been up to?” 

Sam shrugged, unperturbed. "It looks like he’s been getting by on the streets.“ He frowned. "I hope he’s been getting enough to eat." Sam started rustling around the fridge. "Maybe I should make some garlic bread. And I think I’ve still got some clean sheets in the closet…”

Steve felt like he was missing something. Either that or everyone's gone crazy. "You want him to *stay*? What’s to stop him from stabbing you in the middle of the night? He's clearly packing at least three knives." He leaned back against the counter. "Sam, we should really turn him in to someone who's better equipped to handle this. The Avengers or…“ Steve faltered – did he trust any other group, what with the way HYDRA infiltrated SHIELD?

Sam turned back with triumphant garlic bread from the freezer, and shot Steve a quizzical look. "Hey man, didn’t you read any of the stuff about him from the filedump?”

“No…?” When he woke up in the hospital, Steve knew that he only wanted two things: one was to make a go of it with Sam, and two was to eradicate HYDRA like he should have done 70 years ago. Zola’s smug look from the screen haunted him. If he'd done his job properly that night in the factory, then Bucky wouldn’t have died the following year…

Sam thrust his laptop under Steve’s nose. "Look through some of his files, man. It’s a doozy.“ Sam turned to preheat the oven, but kept talking. "I don’t know how this guy has managed to stay alive, Steve – every time he disobeys the slightest they zap his brain. They put him on ice and pull him out whenever they needed someone killed.” Steve paged through a succession of horrific yet sterile medical reports and photos. “Who knows how long they’ve been doing this? Bastards completely broke a man into a killing machine.” Steve snapped the laptop shut. Like all the other files that Natasha dumped on the internet, these files only went back to the 80s with the digital revolution. 

“But Sam, if he’s been a killing machine for at least the last 3 decades, what’s to say that he’s not still a pure weapon? The risks…” What happened to the Winter Soldier was tragic, but protecting Sam was more important. 

“You said it yourself – he pulled you out of the Potomac when he had no reason to. That meant there’s something in him that’s the original guy." Sam looked up from the oven, suddenly serious. "Steve, I think that makes him the kind of guy you try to help, and not the kind you turn over to the authorities.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck as he thought about all the shadowy authorities and institutions that make of this world. That was the problem, really. HYDRA was horrible, but he can hardly blame the actions of the institution on its product. He sighed. "Yes, you’re right, Sam. He deserves dinner at the very least, and honestly, there’s no one I’d trust to turn him over to.“ 

"Steve, you okay?” Sam set down the spoonful of sauce that he was tasting and gave Steve a worried look.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Steve didn’t want to bring up how hard he found it to trust *anyone* these days. When he got out from the hospital he didn’t even go back to his old apartment – just bought new clothes and a new laptop. Who knew was was bugged there? And by whom? Then after 2 weeks going from motel to motel he showed back up at Sam’s place. Sam who let him into his house and into his bed without any hesitation. Sam who had been his emotional bedrock the last two weeks.

Steve straightened and tried to kiss away Sam's furrowed brow. "I trust your judgement, Sam. Let’s have dinner with the guy whose last mission was to kill us.“ And if the Winter Soldier did decide to stab them, well, Steve had some experience in dealing with that.

* * *

"Inaccurate, Captain. My final mission was to protect the helicarrier launch.” Winter looked up from the mashed potatoes that he was consuming with rapid speed. Sam had handed him a plate piled high with a bit of everything just five minutes ago, but now it was just down to the potatoes. “That was the Secretary’s final stated directive to me. He said there would be no more need for me after.”

Sam nodded, and tried not to think about what Pierce would have done with the Winter Soldier once the Insight helicarriers made him obsolete. "Well, I’m glad that the failure of the mission didn’t stop it from being your final mission.“ Winter’s mouth twitched a bit at that. Was that a grin of satisfaction? Did Winter purposely choose to interpret his mission order in that way? If so, Sam for one was impressed.

"And HYDRA just let you go? Without any additional missions?” Sam winced at Steve’s brusque question. Steve has been tense and on edge since Winter showed up, though when Sam really thought about it, Steve hadn’t really relaxed since the time he showed up at Sam’s back door with Natasha in tow.

“I have not returned to any bases since the incident. That was my Final Mission, Captain.” Winter's voice was always courteous when speaking to Steve, who he obviously considered some sort of superior commander, but there was no mistaking it this time – that is definitely a flash of a grin on Winter’s face. Sam would bet anything that some guy in HYDRA was still waiting for the Winter Soldier to show up for a debrief. He kinda wanted to high-five the dude, brainwashing and all. 

Sam was still pondering the logistics of high-fiving a deadly brainwashed assassin when suddenly Winter disappeared underneath the table.

“Winter?” Winter'd just finished his plate, and maybe he dropped a spoon.

Then someone was tugging on his fly with an intractable metal hand. Sam would really like to retract the yelp that came from his throat as he leapt about 5 feet away from the table and clutched his crotch, but that was already out and Steve was already forming a solid barrier between him and Winter, who was still awkwardly kneeling under the table, frozen with his hand up.

Steve kept his eyes fixed on Winter and hand on his shield (where did that come from?) while he called back to Sam, “You all right? He hurt you?”

“I'm fine. Guy just tried to unzip my pants.” Sam couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. Winter was clearly unarmed, so he wasn’t trying trying to cut Sam’s dick off. " I think… he um… wanted to give me a blowjob???“ 

"Confirmed,” said Winter from underneath the table. Sam couldn’t help laughing a bit. One second Sam was wondering if Winter knew about high-fives, and the next second he was about to get a blowjob. This got surreal fast. 

Sam watched as Winter scooted a bit out from under the table and crawled to kneel in front of Steve. "I’m sorry, Captain. As you are the ranking officer here I should be thanking you first, even though the Falcon was the actual supplier of food.“ Time seemed to stand still as Winter reached up to unzip *Steve’s* pants. All Sam could think was What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully Steve was quicker to recover than Sam. "Stand down, Soldier.” Steve managed to bark out. Winter’s hands immediately fell to his sides and a look of fear flashed over Winter’s face. He bowed his head down. "I’m sorry for my mistake, Captain. If you tell me what it is, it won’t happen again.“

There was some crazy HYDRA thing going on here. Sam reached over and gave Steve's hand a reassuring squeeze as Steve heaved a sigh. "Return to your seat, Winter. I need an explanation.” 

They all sat back down and Sam took a deep breath. Maybe inviting the Winter Soldier in was a tad more complicated than extra garlic bread and clean sheets.

* * * 

“It’s how things are done.” He struggled to find the words to explain that this was the natural way of things. "It’s the only way I know.“ Because it’s the only way he'd *ever* known.

Steve and the Falcon sat patiently across from him, waiting for further explanation, so he kept his eyes averted (because that’s what he’s supposed to do when he’s in trouble), and tried to put into words the things he knew to be instinctively true. "I am only to eat food given to me by approved personnel. I am to express gratitude for anything given to me outside of basic field provisions. Gratitude is most commonly expressed through fellatio, though sometimes the commanding officer desires something different.” He risked a look at Steve. The Captain. "The most senior officer’s demands supercede all others.“ 

"So you’ve been going around DC sucking off anyone who gave you food?” The Falcon said after a pause. The Falcon sounded ... concerned. When superior officers sounded concerned about his actions, it usually involved ... correction.

“Negative." He quickly tried to address the concern. "They were civilians, not approved personnel. I was given 10 days’ field rations before my final mission. I finished the last one yesterday.”

“So you put yourself on a starvation diet to make the field rations last?” Steve sounded calm. He knew he could count on the Captain to not be concerned.

“Correct.”

The Falcon whistled lightly. "Heh, guess you really didn’t want to go back to HYDRA after your final mission.“ This was not a question, so he chose not to confirm or deny it. "So why is it okay to eat our food?”

“You are approved personnel by association with the Captain.” He shot Steve another look. He knew Steve, even before he was the Captain. That, too, was instinctively true. The captain nodded, slowly. Steve did not know him in the same instinctive way, but Steve was a good captain and a fair commander.

The Falcon set another full plate in front of him. “Hey, Winter.” He liked the way the Falcon smiled and he liked being called Winter. Cold meant peace. Cold meant rest. 

His stomach growled at the sight of more food, but the issue of gratitude still hadn't been resolved. He looked at Falcon. "Sir?" 

"Look, I know what it’s like to be so used to one way of doing things that coming back to civilian life throws you for a loop. So… here’s the deal: outside of HYDRA, the way you express gratitude is to say ‘Thank you.’“ 

Winter considered this, and matched it up with his observations of civilian use of the phrase over the last month. Was he considered a civilian now? That did not feel true. In addition... "There are cases where in addition to the phrase 'Thank you,’ I’ve observed people exchanging money for food, or kisses, or labor, or even other food.”

“Ah. Well…” The Falcon had a look on his face of trying to explain something that was instinctive to *him*. "With… non-approved personnel, you usually exchange money, and with friends… er… approved personnel, you might offer to help in other ways.“

"Like fellatio?” Maybe fellatio was still the standard action, just not for the Falcon specifically.

The Falcon blushed and looked at Steve. “Well, only if both you and the person agreed to that." Then he turned to Winter again. "Look, you should, um… ask the person what kind of assistance they prefer, and you can always say no if what they want is not something you want to do. Or even make a counter-offer.”

Winter looked down at his new plate of food. Being here was more complicated than being with HYDRA. Fellatio was simple. Following orders was simple. Having to always decide if he wanted to do something or not sounded exhausting. But he was ready for more complicated, which was why he came to the Captain in the first place. He looked once more at Steve for confirmation, then turned to the Falcon. “Thank you for the food, Falcon. What can I do to help?”

The Falcon laughed in relief. "How about you start calling me Sam, and help me wash the dishes after dinner?“

Winter liked it even more when Falcon laughed. It was loud and didn't carry the threat of punishment. "Affirmative.” He picked up a fork and dug into the new plate, relieved that his mistake had been corrected without any punishment. 

After dinner Winter helped Falcon "wash the dishes." This turned out to be relatively simple task and Winter was able to pick it up effectively on the first try, and didn't require further training. Falcon smiled at him. That, too, was nice. 

Then Falcon showed Winter to his new holding cell. Winter did a perimeter check and found the windows properly locked. There were no listening or other monitoring devices aside from the one that controlled the room temperature, which seemed irregular. There was a bed, two lamps, a closet with boxes, an empty dresser, and, next to the window, an armchair and a shelf of books. There was a small adjoining area with all the washing and cleansing implements. Winter briefly wondered if he was expected to cleanse himself, or to wait for a technician. Overall, the cell had far better facilities for personal care than the HYDRA ones that he could remember – it resembled more the hotel rooms where the Secretary would sometimes request his presence. The bed definitely looked very comfortable and worthy of someone like the Secretary or Steve. It’s good that Steve would not have to sit on some hard bunk when he needed Winter’s services. 

This was far more than he expected when he turned himself in. Although Steve and Falcon lacked much of the technology and weaponry of a standard HYDRA facility, they were far more permissive with what they had. Winter had a feeling that they would not impede his self-assigned mission, though he was also glad that the Captain hadn't performed a full debrief when he turned himself in.

Winter settled into his cell – he unstrapped his backpack, took off his shirt and boots, picked a promising book from the shelf, and sat down on the floor to read. 

“Whoa, you okay there?” Winter looked back up to see Falcon's standing at the door, holding some towels and blankets, Steve standing just behind. There was that concern in Falcon's voice again. Something was wrong and needed to be corrected.

“Nothing that I can observe, Sam.” Winter replied, careful to use Falcon’s preferred form of address. "Although if you see something wrong I will correct my action immediately.“ It’s going to take him a while to learn the expectations here. Winter hoped it wasn’t the book. He’d dropped it as soon as he heard Falcon's question, and it’s now obscured behind him. He'd gotten sloppy: usually he’s permitted the items in his holding cell, and the book looked so exciting.... Then again, it might not be the book. It might not be anything. Some commanders were very permissive but would then suddenly punish him severely without warning. Winter hoped that Falcon wasn’t that type, though he could already feel his body bracing for pain.

"Hey there,” Falcon reached out slowly with a hand. Winter couldn’t help twitching away. Malfunction. Heart pounding, Winter forced himself to return to a position where he sat kneeling and facing towards Steve and Falcon. If he hadn’t done anything wrong before, now he had. This was the sort of malfunction that always made punishment worse, and Winter wished he had better control over himself. He briefly wondered if there was anything he could do to change things now – some commanders accepted apologies.

But when he looked back up, Falcon had retreated to the doorway, towels and bedding still in his hand. He was frowning and muttering to Steve.

Steve laid hand on Falcon's shoulder, then walked over and squatted down next to Winter. Winter held himself still. Steve was fair, this he knew. 

"Hey Winter, you’re obviously scared. Care to explain why?“

A direct question must be answered to the best of his ability, even if it incurs more punishment. Winter swallowed. "I do not yet know the rules and punishments of your command, Captain, and may have done something that Sam sees as not okay and will punish me for." Winter wondered if Steve would use the bed today. Or Sam, or both. Level 2 punishment seemed appropriate, and he knew Steve was not cruel. If only he could express his gratitude in the old way. 

Steve looked back at Sam, then said carefully, "You have not broken any rules in this house, Winter, so there won’t be any punishment. Sam was just surprised by the scars on your body and wanted to know if you felt okay.” Winter nodded and allowed himself to relax a bit. This was something that he knew the answer to.

“That is my body functioning within normal parameters, Sam.” Winter made sure to report to Falcon this time. "The arm is constantly pulling at my muscles here and here,“ he gestured, "Hence the continual scarring. At specific times of the evening, and given sufficient nutrition, implants along my spine trigger accelerated healing to repair the damage.” He turned around to show the way the implant spots trace red and purple lines back to his arm. "The pain and bruising subsides in about two hours. It is regular maintenance.“ Winter turned back around and tried to smile at Falcon. Falcon liked smiles. "I hope you find that acceptable, Sam?”

“Um, yeah. Thanks for explaining, Winter. And I’m sorry that I spooked you.” It felt odd to hear gratitude and apologies come from other people, but Winter nodded, since that seemed like the appropriate response. Then Falcon continued, “Would you like it if we made a clear list of rules and punishments so that you can anticipate them?”

That would indeed be very helpful. Winter remembered to express gratitude in the appropriate manner. "Thank you, Sam. What can I do to help? HYDRA had very clear levels of punishment, if you wish for a reference...“

Steve suddenly cut in, his voice tight with anger, "And what was that? The punishments.” 

Winter couldn’t help flinching again. A part of him trusted Steve not to hurt him, but another part of him said that Steve didn’t know him like he knew Steve. He took a deep breath. "The lowest level were surface lacerations of the skin by knife or whip, healing time 1-2 hours. Second was rectal penetration, same healing time, but greater discomfort. Third: deeper cuts and moderate muscle damage, healing time 5-6 hours . Fourth was breaking of bones. Fifth was complete reset.“ He never quite knew what would merit the severity of punishment he’d receive, but the tiers were always quite clear.

Steve exchanged a look with Falcon again. 

"Thanks, Winter.” Falcon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked sick. Winter wondered if Falcon accepted apologies. "We’ll get a list drawn up by the morning.“ He laid down the bundle in his arms on the dresser in Winter’s cell. "In the mean time, here’s a fresh towel and toothbrush for your bathroom – I’ve got a really good hot water boiler, so take as long as you want, whenever you want. There's also some extra shirts there.” Winter nodded in acknowledgement. So he was to cleanse and dress himself.

"Sleep well, and we'll see you in the morning!" After they closed the door, Winter breathed a sigh of relief. He was expected to sleep, to cleanse himself, and to be retrieved from his cell in the morning for a review of rules. They have not required him to turn in his backpack, and it seemed like they either didn’t notice the book, or didn’t care to take it from him. He cracked open _The Oxford History of the 20th Century_ and started reading.

* * *

“Hey, Earth to Steve…” Sam snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face, then cocked his head. "Wait, do you even get that reference?“

Steve frowned and searched his brain for arbitrary trivia. "It’s about space exploration, right?” He looked down at the piece of paper by Sam’s hand. "Guess you found a few more things to add to the list?“

"Yup.” Sam waved it triumphantly. "Clear housemate expectations framed in a way that even the most brainwashed ex-HYDRA assassin could understand. Plus I snuck in a few self-care suggestions.“ 

Sam looked so inordinately pleased with himself that Steve couldn’t help pulling him into a quick kiss. "You’re pulling out all the stops for this guy, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I owe him.”

Steve must have made a face because Sam laughed. "You keep forgetting how important you are to other people, Steve.“ Steve opened his mouth to argue that it was Captain America that people looked up to, not him, but Sam hushed him with another kiss. "Yes, I mean you, Steve Rogers, a guy who clearly wanted out and *needed* to be, but who went back in because it was the right thing to do. That was … inspirational, you know? Way more than that rah rah Captain America stuff.” 

Sam nibbled playfully at Steve’s shoulder, before looking at Steve seriously. "So when I saw the helicarrier fall, and heard over comms that you were still on it… I couldn’t help thinking ‘Not Again’. Grounded and useless when you were falling." Sam paused, and buried his head in Steve's shoulder for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was once again firm and calm. "So imagine how it felt to find you by the riverside, *alive*, with your shield tucked under your arm…“ Sam fixed him with a look. "Winter saved your life, and that means a hellava lot to me.”

Steve couldn’t help feeling a chill down his back. He knew this was probably the closest Sam was going to come to saying it: Why didn’t Steve value his own life as much as Sam and an anonymous HYDRA assassin did? 

He owed Sam an explanation.

But that would involve talking about Bucky, and he’d been trying not to think about Bucky for the last 3 years and a century. He’d especially been trying to avoid thinking about Bucky around Sam – it felt like cheating in some way, though he wasn’t sure if he was betraying Bucky or Sam. Steve sighed. Peggy was right: he’s a melodramatic idiot.

“Ever since I was little, I didn’t really care about dying. Guess that came from being sick enough to die 4 months out of 12. And being smart enough to know that a poor son of an Irish immigrant single mother didn’t have a chance at having much of a life, even if I did survive to 20. The eugenics people probably had me on their list.” Steve shrugged. "Compared to hacking out your lungs, a bloody nose didn’t count for much, so I always just threw myself into fights that felt right. Schoolyard bullies became bar fights became political rallies which then became Hitler and HYDRA.“ Sam nodded. This stuff was probably in the history books. 

"And through it all, it was always someone else who pulled me out before I actually killed myself – at first it was my ma, and afterwards, it was Bucky. Sometimes, it was Peggy. Someone to remind me that I’m more than the fight, someone who loved me enough to jump in after me, and someone who I loved enough to make me look back when I charge in.” Steve fixed Sam with a look. "For the longest time, that was Bucky.“ He hoped Sam could feel the weight of the complicated history between him and Bucky that couldn’t be expressed in words, and he saw Sam nodding. He could tell Sam specifics if he ever wanted to know, but not right now. There was still one last part. Steve took a deep breath. "After he died, there was just Peggy, and then after I woke up ... well, with Peggy fading away in the hospital ... I didn't really have anyone." Steve looked at his hands, thinking about the emptiness of his pre-furnished SHIELD apartment, the furniture that he barely used. He'd never been alone before that. He almost begged Fury for a bunk in the Triskellion. "I started forgetting what that was like, to care about myself that way, to jump with the knowledge that someone would pull me out. It was easier to just fight the closest and biggest bully and not cared if I lived or died. I still don’t know why Winter jumped in after me, but what’s more important, is that *you* were the one by my bedside when I woke up.“

And no, Steve wasn’t going to say it outright, either, but Sam got it. He locked eyes with Steve and grinned, slow and wide. Setting down the paper they’d been working on, Sam slid a hand under Steve’s shirt and started pulling Steve up the stairs to their room.

They barely made it to the bed.

But after, cradled in Sam’s arms, Steve found himself thinking about Bucky again as he drifted off to sleep. The first night they had to themselves after getting everyone out of that HYDRA factory, he'd traced his hand along the line of red bumps down Bucky’s back. Bucky'd dismissed them as bug bites before smiling that smile of his and thoroughly exploring Steve’s new body… and Steve’d forgotten about the whole thing until Winter's back implants reminded him. They did have the indentation of bug bites, but what if … Winter’s chilling statement about HYDRA’s punishment policies echoed through his head. The cool detached way that he talked about whipping, rape, and physical mutiliation… what if Zola had done that to Bucky in the factory? Steve swallowed, hard. He really needed to find the HYDRA files from the war.

Sam mumbled pleasantly in his sleep, and Steve shifted to get a better hold on him. Zola could wait for the morning. He gently kissed Sam on the forehead. The Winter Soldier might be sleeping just downstairs, but he had Sam to chase away the nightmares. 

* * *

Sam had woken up warm and happy in Steve's arms, but now, at half past ten, all those feelings have been replaced by frustration and weariness. Since he'd forgotten to ask Winter about his morning routine the night before, he insisted on canceling their morning run, which left both of them slightly ornery, though Steve more so. Then breakfast cooled as they waited for Winter. Finally, at 10am, after 4 hours of waiting, Sam’d finally knocked on the Winter's door and went in, fully expecting to find him gone. Instead, it turned out that he was showered and dressed and sitting on the floor, calmly reading a book the whole time. He’d thought of the room as his “holding cell”, and was waiting for “retrieval.” So it was up to Sam to explain that Winter had full control and access to the room, that he had the right to go anywhere without “superior supervision.” Sam knew a bit about how confusing and open-ended civilian life can seem after the structures of the military, but HYDRA had taken ownership of the Winter Soldier to another level altogether. 

Basically all the hustle and wait of this morning had been no one's fault but HYDRA's, but if things don't get resolved in the next 15 minutes, Sam was gonna be late for work. Steve had been singularly unhelpful in this whole thing -- he'd woken up with Zola on his lips, and hadn't looked up from his laptop in the last few hours. 

“Well?” Winter had been studying the list for 20 minutes, and Sam was trying not to check his watch. "Any questions? Anything you need clarified? Any proposed amendments?“ Sam didn’t think the list was *that* challenging – the "rules” mostly involved things like “don’t finish the last of Steve’s cereal” and “don’t physically harm people, especially civilians” and “if you deplete a common household item, like toilet paper, please replace it”. And the “punishments” mostly involved saying sorry, being honest, and extra chores. He even made sure the list of “suggested ways of expressing gratitude” were easy things like “make breakfast” or “go out for a walk” or “carry a conversation with one of us.”

Winter frowned. He was clearly working up to something. Sam put on a smile and tried not to scare him. Winter spooked so easily. He was rewarded with the statement, "This doesn’t say anything about the process for the requisitioning of additional resources.“

Sam blinked. "What?"

“With HYDRA, if I needed an specific weapon, there was a system, with forms and an evaluation procedure….” Winter was definitely angling for something. 

"Well, you hardly need any more weapons than you do now, do you? Is this some sort of request that I buy Frosted Flakes instead of Honey Nut Cheerios?“

Winter’s jaw twitched. "I need …” He chewed his lip. "Access to information, ideally via a computer terminal of some sort…“ He then looked down and mumbled hesitantly, "I know computers and books are for technicians and civilians, not for the Asset, and I need only mission-relevant information, but…”

Sam noticed that Winter had a way of twitching his right shoulder when he’s expecting punishment. "Hey, it’s okay, requests for things are totally fine. We’re not HYDRA, remember? You can totally ask for things. If we can’t give it to you, we’ll just tell you.“ 

He paused to consider the logistics. "Well, I don’t exactly have a spare laptop, but … the Playstation is hooked up to the internet, so you can use that. Or go to the library if you feel like leaving the house. Are you in desperate need for one? You can always check email and stuff on mine for the next few days...”

Winter nodded hesitantly. "It’s mission critical.“

"Wait, what mission?” Steve spoke up suddenly from behind Sam. Turned out he was listening after all. "I thought you were done with HYDRA.“

Winter’s right shoulder started twitching like crazy. But still he unclipped his backpack from his shoulders and reached in to pull out a thick notebook. "I… I’ve been pursuing my own mission, Captain.” He pushed the notebook across the table, head bowed. Steve walked over and picked it up. Looking over Steve’s shoulder, Sam saw that the first 50 pages or so were the years of the last century, with a few post-it notes here and there, but many of them blank. The back of the notebook, however, was densely stacked with post-it notes, a jumble of yellows, blues, pinks, and greens. Steve read a green one at random, “Boy, age 11, blond, bloody nose.” He arched an eyebrow at Winter.

“I don’t know if this was a mission target, a civilian bystander that I passed in transit, a handler’s family, or someone from… before.” Winter tapped his head. "The longer I remain out of cryo, the more images and sounds run through my brain. But I lack relevant information to understand their significance.“ He licked his lips and gave the book a worried look as Steve started flipping through the pages of sticky notes more slowly. 

Sam plucked the notebook from Steve’s hands and pushed it back to Winter. "So you want to figure out when and where all of these memories took place?”

Winter nodded, relieved to have his book back. "I need additional recon to identify how long I’ve been with HYDRA. And…“ A sudden sharpness came into Winter’s eyes. "If I can figure out which ones belonged to HYDRA, then what’s left would be mine. From before.” The way Winter said the word ‘mine’ made Sam want to hug him. This guy has been property and weapon of HYDRA for so long that he constantly expected to be treated as property to be used and abused. And yet he's still fighting to find himself at every chance that he got. Sam looked over to find Steve absorbed in his laptop again. An idea suddenly came to him.

"Well, I got work at the VA today…“ He darted over and pulled Steve into a kiss. "But Steve, maybe *you* can figure out the laptop situation for Winter? How about asking Stark?" Steve frowned at the mention of Stark. "You need to talk to him about *your* project, anyway....”

Steve shot Sam a look of “I’m onto you,” so Sam just gave Steve another quick peck on the lips and bailed. “Have fun, boys!” 

* * *

Even though Steve was working in the kitchen and Winter was trying to figure out the web features of the Playstation in the living room, Steve could still feel Winter observing him. Steve had lead the Howling Commandos and the STRIKE team, so he’s not unfamiliar with the deference and distance that came with being in command. But Winter looked at him in a way that he couldn’t quite place. At times it felt like a look of absolute trust and knowledge, as if Winter was tuned to the very depths of Steve’s thoughts. At other times, it’s with the fear and absolute obedience he probably accorded to his HYDRA commanders. And Winter’s eyes. There was something about his gray eyes, the way they reflected the light of the sky, that seemed eerily familiar somehow. But once he zoomed out to take in Winter’s large nose and sunken cheekbones, he looked like a stranger again. 

Suffice to say, it made it harder than usual to tackle his self-assigned Zola task. All of the files pre-Pierce were inputted and managed by Zola, and he’d put some sort of file system encryption on it, rendering them unreadable. Steve might have felt better if they were literal letter jumbles, but instead, they were files each with exactly 500 words each. But how each word links to another is completely opaque. One word or phrase may link to another bit further down the page, or in a different file altogether. It’s basically the world’s largest alphabet soup, which has basically put a stall on any sort of thorough investigation of HYDRA files before 1980.

Most of the world has been preoccupied with the data from the last 3 decades, and just that information has been enough to condemn a few senators and several top level members of various agencies, but Steve wanted to find the beginning. Red Skull. Erskine. Zola. To everyone else, they were ancient history, but to Steve, they were all alive just yesterday. At first he thought he had some good leads – doing a global search for names of WWII HYDRA locations and acronyms turned up some sentence snippets and map portions that Steve was able to piece together into half-formed reports. But then he hit a wall. The words are all there, just not in order. And Steve lacked the information to put things in context. He could hear Zola's taunting laughter.

Steve sighed. Sam was right: he needed to talk to Tony, which was something he’d been avoiding for the past few weeks. It’s not that Steve didn’t trust Tony. It’s just that after Project Insight, Steve didn’t trust most people. Steve eyed the Soldier in the other room, metal arm glinting from under his plain flannel shirt. On the other hand, it'll be safer if someone else knew about the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier as well. The guy would probably benefit from a full psych eval and professional help in removing HYDRA conditioning. And of all the people and agencies out there, Tony was the least bad option. Maybe he could even get Tony to take the Soldier off his hands.

He opened the calling program on his laptop and dialed.

“Hey Cap, what’s up?” Tony was in his workshop, fiddling with an arm gauntlet. He looked around the screen. "Why’s your camera so crappy? What happened to the laptop that I gave you?“

"Um…” Steve didn’t feel like explaining how he threw the laptop across the room when JARVIS started talking out of it. He was so tired of being tracked. Observed. Recorded. "I broke it?"

“Nevermind. You got anything else of mine? Like the StarkPhone? Or even that USB of polar exploration videos that I sent you – just plug it in and JARVIS can fix this mess in a jiffy.” Tony loomed into the screen. "Although your transfer rate is abysmal. Still at your pad in DC? I can send someone over to fix…“

"Tony… have you done any work on decoding the early HYDRA/SHIELD files?” Steve did *not* want Tony here, in Sam’s house.

“Sure – who did you think released the word soup version? I had JARVIS on it first thing after your fiasco. Especially since I had some … industry interests to protect in the released files.” 

“So… that’s as far as the decoding goes? There’s no way to do more?”

Tony shrugged. "Oh sure, but you’d need access to the original encryption algorithm as well as the key. Brute-forcing it would take forever, even for JARVIS.“

"How long is forever?” Steve's seen Tony call five minutes "forever" before.

“Let’s just say you can probably pop back in the ice for another long nap.”

“But if you had the original encryption algorithm, it'd be faster? Where would that be?”

“As long as there’s still a copy of Zola around, he should have it. The hard part is tracking down Zola – he’s currently not hooked into the internet. JARVIS has been looking.”

Steve snuck a glance at Winter, who seemed to be using Google Streetview to explore a Spanish-speaking country.

“So I’d need to find a HYDRA base that’s actively running Zola’s AI, and then…”

“A quick plug-in to link to JARVIS. Shouldn’t take him more than 20 minutes once he’s hooked up.” Tony looked up from his work. "You’re really into this, aren’t you? Isn’t there enough to dig through in the HYDRA files of the last 35 years? Sudden attachment to the Carter Administration?“

Steve shrugged. "Not exactly.” The real answer was too long and complicated – the way Zola's survival and Bucky's death still felt like his fault. The sick feeling in his stomach when he realized that out of fear and a sense of righteousness during the Cold War, SHIELD missions stopped being different from HYDRA missions. The way he had unfinished business in the past. He searched for a short answer that Tony'd understand. "I want to know how Peggy played into this.“ 

Tony’s voice softened. "Yeah, this must break Aunt Peg’s heart.” Tony paused for a second and looked into the distance, and Steve was glad he didn’t mention Howard. Then he resumed tinkering on the gauntlet and his voice sounded extra light as he said. "Well, Cap, I’ve got my hands full cleaning house, but if you want to kick down HYDRA bases looking for ugly computers with an old wrinkly guy in it, be my guest." He waggled his eyebrows at the screen. "I’ll set JARVIS to write some standard decrypting programs, and send you a filtered list of known HYDRA bases sorted by likelihood of continued operation. It’ll be missing Zola cross-references from pre-1980 data of course, but it’ll be a place to start. And if you ever manage to find a working Zola console, just plug in some Stark thing and JARVIS can pick it up from there.“ 

"Thanks, Tony.” 

“Sure thing, Capsicle. We’ve all got our ways of dealing.” Tony gestured with his arm and the gauntlet on his table curled its fingers. "Anything else I can help you with? I'm not just a tech support guy, you know. Although I should really send you a new laptop with a functional video camera... or, fancy a trip to New York? We've got the best bagels and the most discreet therapists.“

Steve hesitated. Maybe it’s a bit too early to alert Tony about the Winter Soldier. The guy seemed mostly functional and not liable to kill anyone. And he could be very helpful in locating HYDRA bases, which he wouldn't be able to do as well from a secure facility in New York. Plus, Winter'd probably also want to get at the early HYDRA files anyway – it’d make his memory project a lot easier. 

"Nah, I think I’m set for now. Thanks, Tony. Say hi to Pepper for me.”

* * *

Winter couldn't help a shiver as Steve closed his laptop and moved to sit down on the couch. Steve had been talking to someone -- was he being transferred to another facility? He'd just learned the rules of this one. As Steve sat down mere inches from him, another possibility appeared: Maybe Steve would recognize him now. Falcon was out of the house for the first time, and they were alone together. Winter's heart rate increased, and he wanted to lean his shoulder into Steve, but that wasn't what you did with commanders. Instead, he put down his investigation of the top assassinations of the last century and waited for orders.

The answer was neither: Steve wanted Winter to help with locating and infiltrating HYDRA bases with the Zola terminals. Winter did not like Dr. Zola, and his right shoulder twitched. In a notebook that Winter hadn't shown Steve, he had a lot of memories associated with him, most of them involving pain and cold: Dr. Zola was always interested in improving Winter. Winter shuddered again. Things were better with the Secretary, who thought Winter was perfect as long as he performed his missions and thanked the Secretary appropriately. 

But Steve wanting to find Zola also felt familiar to him in some way, like it had happened before. And whether Winter liked someone or not didn't matter: HYDRA made him to execute missions, and it made sense that the Captain wanted to use him the same way. After he nodded and confirmed that he knew of several bases in the area that might fit the parameters, Steve thanked him and then mentioned buying him a laptop for his research. The implications were clear: as long as he proved himself useful to Steve, he would be permitted to stay and pursue his own mission. He would have his own room, easily avoidable punishments, and even his own computer terminal. It was a reasonable and fair arrangement, because Steve was a reasonable and fair commander.

When Steve got up to make lunch, he didn't react when Winter's shoulder accidentally touched his.

The emptiness in his stomach was probably hunger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so much of this chapter is set-up -- a lot of the dynamics are different because Steve doesn't recognize Bucky at a moment when Bucky doesn't even recognize himself. But the asset is smart and determined -- he'll figure it out! p^_^q


	2. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missions go wrong for Sam, Steve, and Winter.

Sam triple-checked his ammo clips as he waited for Steve to take up position on the other side of the entrance to HYDRA base. He was a bit dubious about Steve's plan of attack, and if things go to hell, Stark's still working on his wings so he didn't even have a way to lift them out of danger. Not that wings were all that helpful in underground HYDRA bases, whereas Winter was an expert in infiltration. Sam didn't think he'd say this 2 months ago, but he missed Winter more than he missed his wings in this situation. 

Winter had gotten a lot better in the last two months -- the research helped. It's pretty cool how Winter'd be flipping through an old National Geographic, come across a photo of some South Asian forest, and a quick cross-check later, discover he was in Vietnam in 1974. It was also great to see Winter come out of his shell -- he moved from researching assassinations to researching recipes, from making a beeline for the library to exploring local markets for food ingredients. Sam still had to make sure not to be upset around Winter -- a raised voice would still send his shoulder twitching, but they've been working on some physical and verbal signals to remind Winter that he was safe and won't be punished.

Sam wasn't sure whether all the HYDRA bases made things better or worse, though.

The first base they went to had been abandoned since the 70s. They’d found a Zola machine but couldn’t turn it on. Then Winter lead them to a room with a an old electro-shock chair from the 1960s, which he *did* manage to turn on. He showed them how it worked, which made Steve blanche and made Sam almost throw up. Winter didn't react at the time, but after dinner Sam found him shaking uncontrollably in his room. 

The second base had a few active HYDRA guards who went into high alert once they caught sight of Steve. Then Winter went into some scary assassin mode and killed everyone before Steve could even swing his shield. Their Zola machine had self-destructed some time in the process. Worse, they had to spend hours getting Winter out of mission mode. He kept switching between accents and languages, mechanically re-enacting various missions. In the end, Steve had to use one of the HYDRA phrases that Winter'd given him.

Which was why they decided to leave Winter at home with a book for the this one.

Sam sighed. It was better for Winter, he knew -- Winter had a weird thing going on with Steve since day one, but after Winter came to from the trigger phrase, they'd been even more awkward around each other. Which was too bad, because Sam would have really appreciated Winter's help with this HYDRA base. Sam counted 4 guards at the entrance, and more dim shadows beyond. And of course Steve wanted to take the direct approach instead of looking for a side door. 

Speaking of which ... Sam heard a rustle from the other side, and there was Steve, charging out with his shield up to draw the fire. Somewhere inside the base an alarm sounded. 

Sam squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and followed. Stark better have his wings fixed soon.

* * *

Winter meticulously dried the last dish in the sink, and looked over at the phone on the counter. Still silent. Still no check-in from Sam or the Captain. He then spent the next ten minutes walking around the house, but he couldn’t find anything else left to do: the floors were swept, the carpets vacuumed, the shelves organized. He’d made an easily reheatable dinner and refilled the cookie jar. They would have gotten to the base an hour ago.

He went back to his room, sat on the armchair, and took out the notebooks in his backpack.

Even here, there wasn’t that much left to work on. With the help of the internet and the library, he’d figured out the year and location of the majority of his missions. The weight of that notebook was now evenly distributed across 67 pages – hundreds of assassinations and assignments, starting from 1948. He felt a tightness in his chest that Sam’s book said was a feeling of guilt. 

Sam had gotten him that book after he reported that his body was malfunctioning more than usual. At first Sam wanted to take him to see a doctor, but when he described the malfunctions, Sam had told him they were feelings, and handed him the book. The author of the book helpfully linked physical reactions to potential emotional reactions. Winter was still testing the parameters of that theory – he could recognize emotions in others, but if *he* had emotions, that meant the person he was before had emotions, which meant that HYDRA would have had to remove them, and that thought made his fingers twitch and his throat feel bitter.

Which was why he put his second notebook aside without opening it. That notebook was for all the memories with HYDRA that were not mission related. He’d gotten about a quarter of the way through sorting it when the malfunctions had started: sweating, difficulty breathing, flood of images, phantom pains, uncontrollable vocalizations. And the more he tried to push through, the worse it got. For every post-it he tried to categorize into “punishment” “training” or “debrief”, he was adding 3 more. He'd kept the malfunctions mostly contained, until the first mission. After that, Sam gave him the book and didn't punish him at all. Sam was always so helpful.

The third notebook made his heart rate jump. This was the one he never took out in front of Sam and the Captain, because Steve was in this one. And Steve might be the Captain. At first he was sure of that, but now... the Captain didn't laugh or joke with him the way the memories of Steve did. The Captain was someone he trusted with his trigger phrases. Steve took on fights by himself. The Captain commanded teams. He glanced at the phone again. Still no report. 

Winter considered his options. On the one hand, the Captain had commanded him to stay out of this mission. On the other hand, Sam had always told him that entering and leaving the house was his choice, and that they were his friends, not his superiors. "The Right Thing to Do" is still a somewhat nebulous concept, much harder to grasp than simple orders. He knew he was banned from the current mission, and that going to the base now would bear the risk of Sam terminating their “friendship” and the Captain transferring him to another organization. However, if he didn’t act, Sam and Steve bore the risk of dying. In both options Winter might lose them, but one option allowed Sam and Steve to live. Winter glanced down at his notebook. He had made this choice before. And he’d always chosen to save Steve.

Winter packed his backpack and headed out the door.

* * *

The first thing Steve felt when he came to was the bite of something hard and metal against his abdomen. He reached instinctively for his shield and found it reassuringly nearby. He looked down: the metal thing was a seatbelt buckle. He looked up, and caught Winter’s gray gaze through in the rear view mirror. He remembered -- sudden light as Winter pulled a beam from above him. The HYDRA base –- they’d taken a direct hit halfway down a hallway, and he'd thrown him and Sam into a nearby room and tried to get cover under the shield but ... There was a moan behind him. "Sam!“ Steve tried to crane his neck to look, but that triggered sharp stabbing pains all across his torso. He looked down and saw shrapnel wounds, freshly ripped. "Winter... status report.”

“Sam’s all right, Cap. Multiple lacerations, a broken arm, three cracked ribs, likely pelvic fractures, and a concussion, but nothing that won’t heal in a few months. I’ve set his bones and covered him with a blanket and strapped him in to prevent unnecessary jarring of injuries.” Steve clung to Winter’s steady voice. "Your wounds are less severe and will likely heal in a week or less. The Zola terminal self-destructed prior to my arrival, and I took care of any remaining HYDRA witnesses." 

"Thanks for coming to get us, Winter." For some reason, Steve found it easier to talk to Winter when he's not looking at him directly. "Are *you* all right? Last time didn't work out so well for you."

Steve noticed a small cut right above Winter's brow. "You hurt?"

"I'm fine, Cap. Thanks for asking.“ Steve suddenly realized that it's usually Sam who did the check-in with Winter. Winter’s eyes flickered from the rear view mirror to the road and then back. "There are police ahead. We need to keep a low profile.” He tossed a gray baseball cap to Steve.

Steve nodded. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to a bloodied Captain America out of uniform, not to mention a severely wounded Falcon and the sudden appearance of the Winter Soldier. "Thanks for coming to get us, Winter." He drew the cap low over his forehead, leaned against the window and pretended to be asleep. It was good to have Winter on his team.

* * *

He pulled the stolen SUV up to Sam’s house without incident, and carefully bundled the two men upstairs and set them up with as much as the house could provide. It will be up to Steve whether he wanted to take Sam to the hospital or not. It will also be up to Steve whether his actions deserved any punishment, but none of that was as important as the thing he remembered in the collapsed operating room of the HYDRA base. He idly traced the mostly-healed line along his brow. He'd spotted a scalpel and there was a sudden image of his head being strapped down and his cheeks being cut open... 

He closed the door to his room and took out his notebooks again. If he could confirm the memory – it’d be the final piece of the puzzle. His hand shook. All of those memories of Steve that didn't make sense -- scrawny Steve in alley fights, at school, at the library, in the park.... he’d researched every one of Steve’s known childhood acquaintances, but none of them looked like him. He was starting to wonder if the scrawny blond kid he remembered was some other boy named Steve growing up in the same neighborhood of Brooklyn. Or that he was a ghost, not just for HYDRA, but before, too. He'd been looking in the wrong place: the answer wasn’t in the third notebook, but in the second one, the one he tried to ignore. Slowly, he flipped through the notes, trying hard to tamp down on all the physical malfunctions that came from the flood of memories. Ah, there, on an unsorted post-it 17 pages in: 

> Soviet commander: “A weapon should not to be recognizable. There are too many images of him out there. He looks too American.”   
>  Dr. Zola: “But … the *irony* of it … to just erase all that…”  
>  Commander: “Leave your personal fetishes out of this, Comrade Zola. I've already gotten approval from the General.”

He pulled out that post-it and put it on the final page of his notebook of personal memories. There wasn’t a corresponding post-it to to confirm the surgery – a facial structure operation would have been too minor to remember in the midst of all the other pain that HYDRA had inflicted, and if it weren’t for that operation room, he probably wouldn’t have remembered at all. But there it was, his third notebook complete: he was James Buchanan Barnes. The remaining problem was that Steve didn't know.

Bucky stared at the notebook for a bit, then put both back in his backpack and got up to check on Sam and Steve.

* * *

Steve gingerly took the soup proffered by Winter and leaned back on the bed, careful not to tear his stitches, and more importantly, not to jostle Sam, who was passed out beside him. The soup smelled amazing, just like the sort of thing his ma'd make him when he was sick as a kid. He sighed and swirled his soup, wishing he was as good at expressing his feelings as Sam was.

He wanted to thank Winter, but didn’t know how. After all, Winter saved his life when he didn't know Steve and had every reason to kill him. And in the months since then Winter's been nothing but helpful. That's so much unearned loyalty, Steve hadn't known how to respond. This wasn't the assigned command loyalty like with the STRIKE team, and this wasn't the trial-by-fire loyalty like with the Howlers. Whenever Winter looked at him with those eyes of absolute trust and protectiveness, Steve couldn't help looking away. Didn't Winter know Steve didn't deserve that? Didn't Winter know that all those horrible things that happened to him could have been prevented if only Steve'd stopped Zola back in 1945? It was his fault that HYDRA survived the death of Red Skull. A chilling thought came to him: Was this sort of dedication programmed into Winter's brain the same way as the rest of his HYDRA training? He knows he should repay Winter's loyalty, but he doesn't know how.

Winter was looking at him now, with those same eyes and a smile at the corner of his lips. Steve was melodramatic, but he was no coward. 

Steve looked Winter in the eye. “Thank you.” Steve started. "For coming to get us, for being here. It's good to have someone I can count on besides Sam and Natasha, even if I haven't done anything to earn it."

Winter smiled. "It's because you're Steve Rogers, and..."

Steve stopped him before Winter could do his standard affirmation of the chain of command. "Hold on, Winter, let me finish. I know you think of me as your commander, but today was a total clusterfuck, and I don't... I don't think you should obey me and jump into these situations just because you think I'm Captain America and your superior officer. I know it was helpful at first to have someone to follow after HYDRA, but I'm... I'm not a good commander. If I were I wouldn't have gotten my best friend killed. And you're a really great guy. You should trust yourself more, like you did today." 

Winter opened and closed his mouth. He was no longer smiling. "Your best friend. You got him killed."

Steve suddenly found his soup very hard to swallow. He shouldn't have brought up Bucky. But Winter deserved to know about the demons that haunted him. It was a way to show Winter that he was trusted. Steve poked at his soup. "Yes. Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. He was everything to me, before the war. He was always there for me, even when I was a complete idiot. Even when I had nothing. But then the war happened and ... I stopped paying attention. I was too fixated on Red Skull, and I didn't notice how Bucky'd changed in the war." All those smiles that never reached Bucky's eyes. The way Bucky'd go silent over the comms for long stretches of time. The way Bucky drank, like he had nothing to lose. It all seemed crystal clear to Steve now, how much Bucky was struggling. But at the time... 

"I wasn't there for Bucky when he needed me. Zola had done something to him in that factory, and I didn't ... I just assumed he was fine and that he'd jump at the chance to nab Zola." Bucky must have been so scared on that train. How did Steve miss the way Bucky went blank at the mention of the mousy doctor? Or the way Bucky twitched when Steve touched him by surprise?

And what's worse, was that every time Steve learned of some new HYDRA atrocity that'd been inflicted on Winter, his first thought was always 'at least Bucky died before they could do that to him.’ He couldn't help himself, despite knowing how wrong it was. Steve gulped and tried to focus on finishing the story, make it relevant for Winter. "Anyway, it was a dangerous mission, I got knocked out, just like today. Bucky was trying to defend me, and he got knocked off of the train. I couldn't save him." It sounded even more pathetic when he said it aloud. "That's why you shouldn't be blindly obeying me. Thank you, for what you did today."

Winter chewed over Steve's confession. “Did you go looking for him after he fell from the train?”

“Of course.” Steve hadn’t thought about this part in a while. “We went back as soon as we secured Zola with Colonel Philips. But by then there was a fresh layer of snow, and we couldn’t find anything. Even asked the Soviet encampment that we came across.” Steve sighed, all the frustration from the memory sinking down to the pit of his stomach and turning into guilt. "Delivering Zola took us 2 days. Maybe if I’d gone down there immediately, we would have found his body, but…“

"HYDRA and the mission came first.”

Steve nodded. The world needed Captain America to stop HYDRA. Steve Rogers could mourn his best friend on his own time.

As if catching the stray end of his thoughts, Winter asked, “Do you still miss him?”

The truth here was equally complicated. “When I first woke up, I missed him desperately.” It was the first time in his life that he was completely alone – no ma, no Bucky, not even the rest of the Howlers, or any of the old gang back in New York. "But he’s dead, so I’ve had to move on in the last two years. There are days when there's a joke that only Bucky would get. Or other days when I miss the way he’d grab my shoulder and call me an idiot to my good ear." How does one describe the dull ache that remains after something that important is lost? 

Steve sensed movement as Winter laid a tentative hand on his shoulder: it was his metal hand. This was the most Steve’s seen Winter reach out. Steve looked up and smiled at Winter. "I guess it's like losing an arm and getting a new one -- it's not the same but you keep going. I don’t have a good ear and a bad ear anymore, and even though it’s only been 3 years for me, it’s been 70 years for everyone else. I’ve got Sam now, and Natasha, and you." It helped, this reminder that there were people in this century who cared, inexplicable as that was sometimes.

Winter’s eyes widened at his own inclusion in the list, and his mouth made several odd shapes before he nodded. "You’ve decided to move on.“

Before Steve could properly answer, Sam moaned in pain beside them, and suddenly all thoughts of Bucky left Steve as he turned to fuss with Sam's blankets. It's true -- thinking about Bucky still hurt, but less with every single day. From the corner of vision, Winter handed Steve another bowl of soup. "Thank you for telling me all that, Cap." He gestured at Sam. "Sam's probably hungry, and he needs to wake up from the concussion anyway.” And the next thing Steve knew, Winter was gone from the bedroom and Sam was smiling at him. 

* * *

Bucky closed the door to his room and flopped down on the bed. So this was it, then. He’d finally figured out who he was before HYDRA, and it was too late. Steve didn’t need Bucky anymore. He’s no longer the scrawny guy with the impressive list of illnesses and an even more impressive will to ignore all of them. He had Sam now. And the Black Widow, and Iron Man. And who was Bucky? Just an idiot who got himself thrown off a train and wasn’t even around to stop Steve from piloting a plane into the Arctic. Steve'd even tried to look for him. 

Steve blamed himself for Bucky's death, but was it any better to resurrect him? Especially when the resurrected form was so broken? The things that Steve missed about Bucky, were things that Bucky wasn’t sure he could do anymore -- he could barely pick up a hand to touch Steve without feeling like he’d violated some unspoken rule. Better to keep Steve’s memory of Bucky intact, anyway – Steve's smiles were soft and tender when he thought about Bucky, versus the way he looked at Winter – a former weapon of HYDRA deserving of rehabilitation and trust, yes, but nothing more. Being the childhood friend of Captain America did not excuse him of all that he’d done as the Winter Soldier.

He might as well face it: Bucky Barnes was obsolete and better off dead. Winter's mission of the past few months was complete. It was a complete failure.

Whereas Steve still needed Winter around to help with identifying and taking down HYDRA bases. And on good days, Steve considered Winter part of the short list of people he trusted to have his back. 

That should be enough.

Winter felt a tickle by his eyes and his nose felt swollen. His breaths started coming in short gulps. This was in Sam's book, too: sadness. He buried his head in the pillows and let the tears and racking sobs flow through him. 

Tomorrow it will be enough to just be Winter, but today, he mourned the death of Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering where all the trashy angst was ... well, here Bucky's finally recovered enough to start having feelings and actually start processing what's happened to him. :DDD


	3. Zola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally gets another shot at Zola. Winter helps.
> 
> (small trash party warning)

“You’ve changed, Winter.” Sam mused aloud as he lay propped on the bed, his ribs a sore mess and his arm in a sling. 

Winter looked up from the armchair where he was cleaning his guns. "How do you mean?“

"Well, for one, a month ago you would have said ‘please clarify’ and three months ago you would have been bracing yourself for punishment when I said that.”

Winter considered this, and nodded. "Guess you're right." He flashed Sam a soft smile. "I couldn't have done it without you, Sam. Thank you.“ 

"You’re welcome.” Sam smiled back. "Though really, I should be the one thanking *you*." That botched mission had been quite the blessing for him. Sam didn't realize how much energy he was putting into caring for Steve and Winter until they turned it around and started caring for *him*. Things have been quiet enough that he was actually able to resume his Friday Night Netflix and Beer with his soccer buddies. And much of that was thanks to Winter. It wasn't just that Winter'd pretty much taken over the cooking and household chores: When Steve spent too long worrying about one thing or the other, Winter distracted him with runs and workouts. When Steve was too busy obsessively poring over aerial maps like he was now -- it was Winter who quietly kept Sam company in his room. 

Sam was damn proud of Winter. It took him two months to go from interpreting everything as potential punishment to barely accepting the possibility of having feelings, but in the last month, Winter's improved by leaps and bounds. He's not just doing things off of the rules and regulations list. He's been responding to Sam and Steve as people, and the way he interacts no longer strikes of routines learned from books. It's almost as if he's remembered ... "Wait... Winter, have you figured out who you were before and then decided not to tell us?"

A surprisingly sad and resigned look came into Winter’s eyes. "Yes. It turned out that who I was before didn’t matter.”

“Why not? Knowing who you were means knowing whether you’ve always liked your coffee black.”

Winter smiled at that. "I suppose it’s helped in that way – I still care about the same big things as I did before. And I guess I've remembered how to talk to people. But…“ Winter pursed his lips. "I'm old, Sam. HYDRA's had me since the 1950s, and not everyone gets written down in the history books like Captain America." Winter's voice was sad, but clearly he'd already made his peace with this. "My family from before are either dead or have completed their mourning, so there's no point in bringing back a ghost.”

Wow, and Sam'd thought Steve's life story of waking up with no friends and family was sad. “But if they knew you were alive, they could…”

Winter shook his head. "And knew what happened to me? No matter what a nice guy I was before, I was still the Winter Soldier for the last 70 years. They'd either be sad about what HYDRA did to me, or what I did to other people." Sam noticed that a faint accent'd crept into Winter's speech. "No matter how I slice it, it’ll just bring more pain to people that I love.”

Winter was quiet for a while as he finished assembling his guns, and Sam allowed himself to think about Riley, too. "You're wrong, Winter." Winter looked up. "The pain of remembering can be worth it. It's still..." Sam thought back to telling stories at Riley's wake. "It's still a connection and a reminder of the good times, too."

Winter chewed his lip. "My sister is in Philadelphia." So that explained the mystery daytrip that Winter took a few weeks ago. "I died when she was 14, so I was there for less than 10% of her remembered life. She has grandchildren that were older than me. What connection do I still have with a retired accountant in Philadelphia?" Winter strapped on his guns and his gear and got up.

Sam sighed. Guess he'll have to try to talk about this when Winter gets back. "Hey, you guys have proper back-up this time, right?“ 

Winter looked back from the door. "Don’t worry, Sam. I won’t let Steve get hurt.”

And he was gone before Sam could point out that that wasn’t the same thing at all. 

* * *

“So the local copy of the Zola system automatically self-destructs if the base gets attacked. Tony doesn't really have a way to prevent the self-destruct remotely, and it takes JARVIS 20 minutes from the time I plug in the USB.” Steve frowned and peeked over the bushes to count the guards again. Six. At the side entrance. "There's more people at this base than we'd anticipated, so we can't sneak in like we'd planned... Maybe if I distract them in the clearing here, get them all outside the base, they’ll forget to put the systems on alert and you'd still be able to slip in…“

"Too much left to chance.” Winter shook his head. "All it’d take is a single person to remember to flip the switch.“ He turned to Steve with a sardonic smile. "You’re Captain America. They will be on alert the instant they see you.”

Steve sighed. Guess this mission was going to be a bust as well. Calling in Tony with more firepower would just make it worse. This is what he gets for trying again so soon after the last mission. "Guess this is how it goes -- any base that would still have an active Zola console would also be impossible to infiltrate without triggering the self-destruct sequence." Maybe if Natasha were here instead of him. Or maybe HYDRA needed to be weaker in general. But Peggy's fading fast and Steve really wanted to get real data to her before she didn't remember SHIELD at all. And he grated at the thought of Zola's smug smile, declaring his life worthless. Steve wanted to punch something -- his entire body ached for a fight. But after what happened last time... 

Steve slung his shield back and was about to call it a day when Winter suddenly spoke up. "They won’t set the base on alert if I turn myself in. There are standardized protocols.“

"No.” Steve’d seen enough electro-shock chairs in the last 3 bases to know what was waiting for Winter. "They’ll just wipe you again.“ He can't let them do that -- Winter’d recovered so much in the last 4 months. Steve's even starting to see him as a friend, and not just a highly competent team member.

"There is a debriefing period first.” Winter sized up the guards and his jaw twitched. "Estimated 30-40 minutes. That will be your chance, Cap.“

"And if they don’t follow standard protocol?” Steve swallowed and flexed his fingers against his shield. It *would* be the best shot they'll get in a long while...

Winter’s grin was particularly feral. "Then I won’t, either.“ Steve nodded. He’d seen Winter take down a room full of HYDRA operatives before. He could feel the new plan taking shape.

"So… you go in, I’ll follow. If at any time the alarm sounds, the mission’s a bust and we get the fuck out. If they start taking you to the mind wipe room, or if I don’t come to the debrief room within 30 minutes…”

Winter nodded. "I’ll also meet you back here. Sounds good.“ Winter tapped at several spots on the blueprints. "Entry. Debriefing room. Server room.” Then he paused, and pointed to pointed to a smaller room several floors down. "Reset room.“ He gave Steve a hard look. "If I’m not in the debriefing room… find me, stop me." Some emotion crept into Winter's usual flat voice. "I can’t go back to killing for them, Cap.”

Steve looked Winter in the eye and nodded. It’s a hard call, but Steve is team lead. "If all else fails, I'll get Tony to obliterate this place." Steve looked back at the map. This just meant that Steve’ll have to get to the debriefing room before the 30 minutes.

Another curt nod from Winter, then he quietly and efficiently started stripping off his gear. Guns. Knives. Grenades. Tac vest. Knee pads. Boots.

"Wait… what are you doing?” This plan was already shaky enough as it is.

“Prepping for debriefing.” Winter's voice was tight as he pushed Steve's protests aside and grunted as he pulled off his black shirt and stood up. His right shoulder twitched and accidentally grazed Steve’s arm as he stood to survey the guards. He looked so vulnerable, standing there in nothing but his black pants, web of scars running down his torso, and those neat round implant incisions in a row down his back. It reminded Steve of Bucky, in the tent after Azzano, shoulders drawn into tense angles, the similar line of marks on his spine. But before Steve's eyes could quite take in the entirety of Winter's scarred back, Winter turned and flashed a wan smile at him. "Don't worry, Steve. You'll get Zola this time.“ And then he stepped out into the open.

The crooked smile that'd crossed Winter's odd sunken face felt like a body blow. Steve'd seen that haunted look before: back in the Alps, just before Bucky slid down the zip-line to the train. To his death. Just to catch Zola. And now it's happening all over again. Steve reached out a hand to pull Winter back but it was already too late – the HYDRA guards at the gate had caught sight of Winter and had their guns pointed at him. Their postures indicated caution, but not hostility. Winter's plan was working. Steve swallowed and embraced the clarity that comes with the rush of adrenaline. The time for guilt over Bucky's death is later, after this mission. Winter is just getting a debriefing, he's not going to his death. Steve hefted his shield and eyed the entrance. This can still work.

Winter stilled his arm spasms and calmly approached the entrance. From a distance, Steve saw a few barked orders at the door, and Winter complying by completely stripping and getting on his knees. One guard delivered a sharp kick to Winter's head, and Winter went sprawling. In the raucous laughter that followed, Steve suddenly thought back to the fear and docility of Winter all those months ago, offering to suck Steve's cock in exchange for food. When Winter said standard debrief protocol...Steve's stomach churned but he forced himself to keep looking. Slowly, Winter picked himself up and faced the guards, still submissive and on his knees. They were pleased, and at another barked order, then turned back into the base, with Winter crawling obediently after them. 

Steve looked at the open door and felt the weight of the USB drive in his hand. He could follow in and stop what they’re doing…. but then they’d have to find another intact HYDRA facility and there’d still no better alternative than what Winter’d proposed. And Winter knew what he was getting into. He was the one who proposed the plan. After what happened last time, he needed to trust Winter’s decisions. Steve tightened his grip around the USB drive and ran in. Winter had bought him 30 minutes, he’d already wasted 2 of them.

* * *

It was harder than he’d expected, to hide all the ways that he was malfunctioning. No, not malfunctioning--all the ways he was human. When the one with the mustache hit him with the stun baton it would have been so easy to swipe it and hit back. When they pulled him over the table by his hair and strapped him down he managed to not kick them, but couldn't stop his tense shaking, and almost vomited. But Steve needed him to obey again, for just 30 minutes. He was going through this hell for Steve, and a part of him hated Steve for it, for being so bull-headed, for always demanding so much of those who followed him. 23 minutes.

But he knew that this anger was a lie, too. To make the pain bearable. To help him focus on getting all these human bits of him under control. He took some deep breaths to calm himself. This was just punishment for not reporting to base earlier. They were still at level 2. After this comes the more severe punishments. That'll make them hard again, and they would want him to "thank" them for taking him back. And he's still sore from "apologizing" earlier... But it didn't matter, he's had worse, and he will obey. He'd do anything for Steve, and Steve needs him to be the asset for 30 minutes. Mission parameters are clear: Endure. Obey. 19 minutes. The asset felt another sharp pain as another man took him from the rear, and held still for them. 18 minutes.

There is a cock in his mouth, and a stun baton in his rectum. Someone laughs and the asset feels the blinding pain of electricity arcing through him. Level 3 punishment. What had he done to merit level 3? He begs, around the cock in his mouth. Somewhere overhead, he heard a familiar digital voice, but he couldn't quite place it. More intel necessary. There was blood running down his forehead, and his right leg is cut to the bone. 10 minutes before he could ... something. There was something he was allowed to do to stop all this in 10 minutes. His mind is malfunctioning, but it doesn't matter: They will fix him.

* * *

Steve found the server room after only one wrong turn. The machines hummed with energy, and half the room was taken up by large magnetic tape decks. Zola.

He found a USB port and plugged in. The light blinked: active transmission. And no reaction from Zola. Steve breathed a sigh of relief, and started patrolling the machines. But then…

"Ah, Captain Rogers, so you’ve survived young Alexander's missiles after all.” The voice came from a monitor to his left.

“Zola.” Steve spat out as he spun to face the monitor. The USB has been plugged in for 10 minutes. JARVIS needs another 10. Which meant Steve needed to keep Zola’s attention focused on him. "I’m pretty hard to kill. But so are you.“

"Hah. Indeed. One of the benefits of the new technological era.” A pause. "But why are you here, Captain? You’re not one to wake me merely to gloat.“

Steve drew himself up to his full height and stalked to be nose-to-nose with the monitor. "I’m here because I want answers, Zola.” The anger was easy -- he'd spent the last months drawing on a need to vindicate Peggy and Bucky and it felt nice to finally direct it at its proper source. "I want to know about Bucky." 

“Ah, your precious Sergeant Barnes.” It took Steve a moment to parse the next sound as a low tinny chuckle. "I have certainly enjoyed... working with him." Steve felt his stomach churn. He was right -- Zola'd done something to Bucky in the factory.

Steve tried to remember what Natasha had taught him – turn vulnerability into strength. "Bucky…. you took him.“ Steve let his pain and guilt show on his face. "I should have stopped you and I didn't." 7 more minutes. 

"And you want to know what I did with him, Captain? All the gory details? Are you sure you’re ready for this, Captain? I must warn you, it might not be enough to just punch me after you find out…”

Steve paused. Zola wasn't just talking about the factory. There was something else. There was a fuzzy sense of unease in the back of his brain. But he needed to keep Zola focused on him and not scanning himself or the room. "Well, I'm happy to punch you now rather than later. We both know you have plenty of monitors here." Zola’s wheezy laugh echoed through the room. 5 more minutes.

"My favorite part was when I showed him the news clipping of your unfortunate demise, Captain. He tried to threaten me like you’re doing now, except that he was weak from starvation and his new arm hadn’t been installed… I do enjoy kicking a dog when it’s down…”

Steve froze. After the plane crash? But that meant… and his new arm? Things were clicking in his head – it didn’t make sense, but if you eliminate all other possibilities… “You.... you turned Bucky into the Winter Soldier?” The roaring in his head was overwhelming now. Had it been another 2 minutes?

“Oh my, I thought you knew that already. Why else would you bring him to the base with you?” Zola’s voice was all mock surprise. "Or perhaps you didn’t recognize him from the surgery we’d done to him?“ Steve’s head was ringing and Zola's voice came through in distorted waves. "At first I’d protested the...der but seeing ...look on your face now…een worth it” Steve pulled up Zola's head and threw it against the floor. Shattered glass on the floor as another three monitors flickered on. "Oh dear, I forgot to mention … since you were so kind to return my Soldier to me, I’ve ordered him to be taken in for an upgrade…“ Each tinny chuckle stun like a bullet to the gut.

No, no no no no no. 

It didn’t matter how many minutes it’s been. Steve yanked out the USB drive and charged out of the room. Hallway, stairs, two flights up. Halfway to the debrief room he came across some fresh drops of blood leading in the opposite direction. He spun and followed. He’d already forsaken Bucky for the mission once already, and if Winter… if Winter was … *is* Bucky … it’s all Steve’s fault. Again. Steve pushed himself to run faster.

Finally the blood trail stopped outside a large reinforced steel door. Too heavy. But not the hinges. They're designed to keep something in, not out. Steve sliced the hinges with his shield and kicked down the door. 3 lab techs and 4 guards looked up in surprise, and Steve made quick work of them. And there he was on the chair, head clamped between two scary pieces of metal. Bucky. Winter. The metal came apart between his fingers, and Steve tugged the bit out of his mouth. The eyes that look up at him were distant and unfocused. "Winter! Bucky! Come on!” Maybe Steve was too late after all. By five minutes. Or by 70 years. 

“Steve?” Those gray eyes focus on Steve’s face, and they were Bucky’s eyes, through and through. A pained smile. "You… you know me. You came for me.“ Then a look of confusion. "Who am I?"

Steve's smile froze on his face. "You're..." Steve pulled himself up short. He could hear rushing footsteps coming down the hallway. They needed to get out first. "Just... just hold on." He quickly took stock of the situation: Winter’s, no, Bucky’s body was covered with bruises, blood, and semen. His left arm was deadweight and his right leg had a deep gash to the bone that had just been sewn up. He’s not sure if Bucky could stand, much less walk. Steve took out his phone and pressed the button with the obnoxious red and gold face on it.

"Hey Cap, good job on the uplink, JARVIS is..."

"Tony, we need air support. Now. I’ve fucked up everything.”

* * *

The first sound he heard was the beeping. Status monitors and vague sense of pain indicated that he was being prepped to go into cryo-freeze. But no, he wasn't on a table, he was on something softer -- a ... bed? Something inside him said, *his* bed. He had a room. And a bed. He wasn't HYDRA's anymore. Winter opened his eyes. No, not his bed, and not his room. But Steve was sitting beside him: hospital. Stark Industries insignia, so private hospital. He remembered sitting next to Steve's bed as a kid, the one time Steve got sick enough that his ma ... Winter abandoned the useless memory and instead searched his brain for something more recent -- there was a new but familiar blank spot there .. a partial mind wipe, then. But before that, there was a mission… some really stupid plan.

Oh. Right. That would explain the concentration of pain in his ass. He hadn't been raped by HYDRA for a while. 

“Did you get the encryption codes, Cap?” Steve'd better. The bastards even sliced his leg open, planning some sort of operation.

“Bucky!” Steve’s hand leapt for his, and Winter jerked away reflexively at the touch. The smile at Steve’s lips pulled down into hurt and surprise.

“Sorry, Cap, you’ve never touched...” Winter started apologizing before what Steve'd said caught up with him. He called him Bucky. "You figured it out.“ That would explain the hand grab.

He watched as a whole host of emotions flashed across Steve’s face. Confusion, anger, disappointment, betrayal. Finally, Steve choked out. "Wait, you remembered that you were Bucky and didn’t tell me?”

"Thought about it." Steve looked so wounded, just as he'd expected. He should try to make this as painless as possible. "But you'd moved on. Bucky was dead and I was … different. Just figured it was easier.”

“But all the things that’s happened to you… you’d had to deal with it alone…”

He put on a smile and reached out to touch Steve's hand. "I didn't deal with it alone. I had you and Sam to help me along. You've already done plenty." Winter wanted this conversation over so that things could go back to normal: Steve would tell him he did a good job, and Sam would make jokes with him.

Instead, Steve pulled his hand out to wring with his other one. "No, I didn't, Bucky. I was too distracted by chasing down HYDRA. Too busy feeling guilty about what happened to you to notice you right next to me. If I knew...."

"Fuck you and your martyrdom, Steve Rogers." Bucky felt anger well up inside him. "If you knew I was Bucky instead of just the Winter Soldier... what? You would have gotten me a nicer laptop?" Steve curled back as if stung. "The same things still happened to me, Steve, and if you somehow think you would have treated me nicer if I were Bucky..." Winter turned away from Steve. "Well, I don't want Steve Rogers' preferential treatment." 

He looked down and saw his backpack sitting on the other side of the bed, next to a chair that had Sam's jacket draped over it. He pulled open the backpack, grabbed the HYDRA one and threw it at Steve. "There you go, Cap. All of my HYDRA tortures. You can read it and feel all the guilt you want. Figure out which ones were Bucky's memories and which ones were Winter's. You like that, don't you? To feel like you're responsible for something." Steve stared at the notebook and didn't move. "Where's Sam? Did you make him wait outside? He's the one who actually remembered to bring me my stuff."

Steve finally stirred. "I… I’m sorry, Bucky. Winter. You’re completely right. If you weren’t Bucky it would probably be Sam sitting here instead of me." He pushed the notebook back at Bucky. "I have no right to read this. I don’t deserve to be here.” Steve moved to get up. "I’ll go get Sam. He's right outside--the couches outside are more comfortable for his ribs, but he'll be here in a sec.“

"I'll be outside talking with Tony." Steve paused at the door and looked at the door handle. "Just... whoever you want to be ... please let me be here for you? I understand if you don't, but ... I don't want to lose Winter and Bucky on the same day. Again."

Bucky sighed as he felt all the anger drain out of him. This idiot is going to drive him insane. "Steve, when you get Sam... make sure you come back in, too.” Steve relaxed his grip on the door handle. "You're a self-righteous punk and a self-absorbed drama queen. But if the last two missions have proven anything, it's that I would still follow you to the end of the line. And I know it's the same for Sam." He chuckled. "Maybe the two of us can keep each other sane while keeping you out of trouble."

Steve turned and flashed him a smile, then went out the door with renewed resolve. Winter sighed as he put the notebooks back in his backpack. Guess he didn't really need them anymore. Because here was the instinctively true thing about Steve that he knew even when those notebooks were completely blank: despite all his flaws, Steve Rogers was always trying to be a better person. And that somehow made all the other dumb shit worth it. Winter leaned back and waited for his friends to come back in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay everyone's happy! (And I finally wrote something over 10k!)
> 
> I left it vague on purpose, but feel free to interpret this as either Sam/Steve+Bucky or Sam/Steve/Bucky. (Until Natasha comes back and Bucky gets Soviet assassin bonding time. :D)
> 
> Apologies also to Tony -- I have a thing for Tony&Bucky as snarky tech pals, but let's pretend that happens in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> I draw and reblog filthy Cap porns on [tumblr](http://thefilthiestpiglet.tumblr.com).


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